


Gloria Regali

by Kellyjelly



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha!Mycroft, Alpha!Sebastian, Alpha!Sherlock, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternative Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternative Universe - Vampires and Werewolves, Anal Sex, Angst, Assassins, BAMF John, BAMF Sherlock, Bite marks, Biting, Blood and Gore, Bonding, Emotional Sex, F/F, Falling In Love, Fluff, Forgiveness, Gun Violence, Happy Ending, Human John, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrids, Immortality, Jealousy, Kicking Ass Is The New Sexy, Kissing, Knotting, Love, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Memory Loss, Omega!Jim, Omega!John, Omegaverse, Past Lives, Plot Twist, Plot With Porn, Possessive Behavior, Protective Sherlock, Romance, Sacrifice, Scenting, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Sherlock Loves John, Smoking, Smut, Torture, True Love, Underworld Crossover, Vampire Greg, Vampire Irene, Vampire Molly, Vampire Mycroft, Vampire Sebastian, Vampire Sherlock, Violence, Werewolf Jim, beta!Greg, bond marks, bottom!John, lingering touches, top!Sherlock, topping from bottom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:08:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25900357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellyjelly/pseuds/Kellyjelly
Summary: Sherlock Holmes: Death Dealer, Vampire, and Alpha was tasked to eliminate the infection known as werewolves swarming London, the werewolf clan belonged to the fearless leader known as Jim Moriarty.John Watson: Assassin, Human, and Omega was tasked to eliminate the bloodline of werewolves belonging to Jim Moriarty. But John is after the truth of knowing why the werewolf clan wants his blood so badly.Sherlock’s past was filled with regret and the abandonment of his mate. Sherlock was led to believe that his mate, John Watson was dead until Sherlock’s past finally catches up to him. John was in fact not dead and to make things even worse, he doesn’t  remember  Sherlock.
Relationships: Irene Adler/Molly Hooper, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 13
Kudos: 50





	Gloria Regali

**Author's Note:**

> Hello beautiful readers!
> 
> Here’s a vampire/werewolf au for Sherlock. This fic is based on the Underworld movies and I will make it my best to steer away from the movies but there will be similar elements being shared between my story and the movies. I have been working on this fic for almost two years and I’m extremely relieved to have finally finished it. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Tonight, in London; the sky was filling with dark clouds, smoky mists of fog were colliding together to create a brewing storm. Within seconds, a deafening roar of thunder orchestrated across London, notifying every resident that a storm was about to begin. The blurred shadows caused by the heavy rain made everyone feel uncomfortable; if you were caught at the wrong place, at the wrong time, something to could happen to you underneath the storm and no one would be able to hear you.

The sharp cracks of lightning broke the sky apart, briefly illuminating London and then returning the streets to their prior fashion, which was darkness. The cold bitter wind nipped at the flesh of humans, scraping pieces of skin and making humans hiss at the fine but sharp cut. Every corner, every street, every turn, every anything was covered in rain and to no avail, this storm would last the entire night.

Such weather was a common event like reading a column in the newspaper and seeing what were the news today. The sky was falling; there was thunder, lightning was everywhere, heavy traffic was building up, clothes were being layered upon shivering bodies, and the carrying of dripping wet umbrellas were leaving behind wet tracks of water.

Yeah, it was just another shitty night that involved coming home, being drenched in water from head to toe and possibly catching a cold.

But to the vampires, this was not like any other _normal_ human night.

Under the rain, across the city, towards the darker parts of London, there was a death dealer on the hunt. The death dealer, Sherlock Holmes, was crouched on a ledge and blending in with the building’s dark shadows. The building was eight stories high but Sherlock was never one to be afraid of heights, instead he deduced the humans below him.

_Humans_ , such a frail creation of existence; Sherlock wondered how humans have existed when the population mostly consisted of werewolves and vampires but mostly vampires —a very biased opinion—. It astonished him how stupid and boring humans were, so dull and distasteful yet necessary for his feeding needs.

What a waste.

Sherlock —an Alpha— continued his deductions in prevention of letting his brain rot but he was not here to observe the ordinary life of humans. No no. Sherlock was here for another reason, he was patiently waiting for something to happen. His purpose as to being in this specific spot was part of a complex story that was made up of lies and truths.

According to the vampires, their side of the story was mainly the truth.

Or so they thought.

The war had all but ground to a halt in the blink of an eye. Jim Moriarty —an Omega— was the most feared and ruthless leader ever to rule the werewolf clan, after centuries, he’d finally been killed. The werewolf horde scattered to the wind in a single evening of flame and retribution. Victory, it seemed, was in the grasps of the ones known as bloodsuckers, the very birth right of the vampires.

Nearly six centuries had passed since the night Jim Moriarty was killed. Yet the ancient feud between vampires and werewolves had proved unwilling to follow Moriarty to the grave.

Though werewolves were fewer in number, the war itself had become perilous. For the moon no longer held her sway over werewolves. Older, more powerful werewolves were now able to change at will. The weapons had evolved, but their orders remained the same: hunt them down and kill them off, one by one, every werewolf that dared to live in London.

A most successful campaign.

Perhaps too successful.

For those like Sherlock, a death dealer, this signaled the end of an era. Like the weapons of the previous century, they too, the vampires, would become obsolete.

Pity, because Sherlock lived for it.

Sherlock looked at the clock located across from him, abandoning his post of deducing humans and beginning to scan the streets below for his upcoming candidates. His electric blue eyes kept moving like the needle found on the Richter scale until the two werewolves he was looking for, had finally shown their faces, _here we go._

The rain was constantly beating over Sherlock, soaking through the Alpha’s curls and drenching his attire. The vampire’s raven curls were swaying against the wind, trickles of water were cascading down his face and dripping down towards his exposed fangs. Sherlock looked at the building before him and saw James Sholto, another death dealer who was a vampire.

James was photographing the candidates who possessed the repulsive trait of becoming a werewolf.

Pictures of their candidates were a necessarily boring standard procedure that vampires must follow before going out into the public and massacring their fellow werewolves. A simple yet dull system that kept track of every werewolf eliminated by death dealers. James reviewed the photos taken by his camera; with a hiss of disgust that exposed his fangs, he looked up and made eye contact with Sherlock.

With a questioning nod, Sherlock asked if they should move in right now and James agreed. James stood up from his crouched position and without any hesitation, he jumped off the building. Sherlock watched as the vampire fell down and landed perfectly on the ground, not capturing anyone’s attention. Sherlock got up as well; the wind was harshly blowing against his Belstaff coat and of course, the vampire couldn’t resist a touch of drama to his entrance.

Before jumping off the building, Sherlock looked down at the palm of his hand with a vulnerable glance that was threatening to melt away his mask of being a cold machine. Sherlock watched the glimmering shine of the dog tags being soaked underneath the rain; he’s polished it many times out of the ridiculous notion of sentiment.

It was unnecessary to take such good care of an item that could easily be thrown away but it was all Sherlock had of _him_.

The soft look of tenderness vanished from Sherlock’s face and the mask of an apathetic killer went back into place. Sherlock pocketed the memory of his past and waited for two humans to remove themselves from his landing spot. Then without hesitation, he jumped. Sherlock fell down eight floors and landed beautifully on the ground without breaking any bones.

Like the badass he was, Sherlock nonchalantly walked away and turned up his collar.

_The game is on_.

*-*

John Watson —an Omega— was walking underneath the unbearable rain in London; like every other person, John was human. He wore a light gray sweater that clung onto his visible muscles which were now prominent thanks to the rain, his legs were covered in baggy sweats and thanks to the rain, again, his thick thighs were viewed by everyone, and on his feet were black sneakers that were squeaking with every step he took.

John was soaked to the bone, at last minute he regretted the outfit he chose but shrugged off his annoyance and went out into the rain. There was no time to quarrel over his choice in clothing for he was on the hunt for two werewolves. John was headed towards the subway station; he walked down a few slippery steps and entered the underground tube station.

John stole a glance from behind him and to his pleasure, a man and a woman kept up with his pace. For the past two blocks; John felt the prickling sensation of being followed and with accordance to his plan, being tailed after was exactly what he wanted. John felt the gun perched behind his lower back sticking to his skin, in no time, the Omega would have the pleasure of using his gun against the werewolves.

John smirked at his plan working perfectly, he walked down the remaining steps that led into the underground tube and reached the platform. Once inside, John removed his soaking wet hoodie and combed through his sandy blond hair with his wet fingers. John knew that the werewolves chasing him were after something he owned, in fact, they wanted something that ran through his veins.

John’s blood was valuable on the market, for what reason, the Omega had no idea. But John was certain that his blood was desired for an obscure purpose. And it was no surprise that his current case, which involved ending the bloodline of Jim Moriarty, was connected to the hunt for his own life.

From what John could remember of his past; he joined the army for a few years and ended up getting shot in the shoulder. Or at least, that’s what he’s read on the files pertaining to his name. After an accident that John could barely remember, he was immediately recruited by an anonymous corporation who sought out potential human beings that had the capacity of becoming trained killers.

John Hamish Watson had all the fucking qualities of becoming a field agent and a killer. It wasn’t long before John climbed to the top of the ladder and became the most merciless agent in all of London.

As the years progressed, Omegas were equally respected as if they were Alphas or Betas. But that didn’t stop Alphas with a prejudice nature to look down at Omegas like they were sex machines waiting to be fucked and become pregnant with pups. John fought hard to earn his respect in the corporation and he did, but the problem of discrimination against his gender wasn’t caused by those who ran the corporation, rather the new candidates that were becoming field agents.

John was by far, the only Omega who managed to survive the long process of becoming a field agent. It wasn’t easy, for John had to endure cat calls and encounters with way too many Alphas who wanted to take advantage of him. But to his pleasure, no Alpha has dared to go beyond the point of raping John, for John beat the shit out of the toughest Alphas and made them pay for not respecting him and thinking that he was a dim-witted Omega who craved their knot.

There were many occasions where John forced every candidate in the corporation to their knees and humiliated them in front of the directors responsible for the creation of their secret corporation. And because of John’s fearless display of demeaning the superior class, the Omega’s reputation preceded him and every Alpha working beside him never dared to dominate John again.

After years of standing his ground, John was considered the most valuable agent in London and he was privy to being given the biggest criminal cases in the city. So here he was, working the case of eliminating Jim Moriarty’s undying clan. But John was not stupid, he knew from the beginning that he was chosen as a field agent for a specific reason.

It was no secret that his bloodline was valuable somehow.

No matter, John was here to finish this case, which he’s been working on for about seven months. If his life was on the line, then he would risk it to kill the remaining werewolves representing Moriarty’s lineage and to uncover the truth as to why his blood was heavily desired by the werewolf clan. But, unaware to the corporation John worked for, the Omega was slightly disregarding the orders given to him.

Sure, part of the job was to kill the remaining bloodline belonging to Jim Moriarty, that was it. There was nothing in the job description that specified John going after the werewolf clan and figuring out the connection between his bloodline and the bloodline of the werewolves. John would dig deeper into this case and he be damned to be the last one to discover why he was important to Jim Moriarty.

_The game is on_.

*-*

Sherlock was already inside the tube station, casually walking down the platform and waiting for the targets to appear. Sherlock leaned against a pillar and reached inside his coat pocket for a new packet of cigarettes, which he recently pickpocketed from a man who walked beside him. Sherlock grabbed his lighter and lit the end of the cigarette, watching the tip burning in an orange flame and inhaling the smoke of tar into his lungs.

Sherlock closed his eyes as the cigarette in between his fingers cured his craving for drugs, more specifically, heroin.

Sure, vampires were immune to drugs but for Sherlock; if he consumed cocaine or heroin, his performance on the field would become much _slower_ and his brain levels would appallingly decrease to that of an ignorant human being. He couldn’t have that. Thanks to his brother’s ramblings, Mycroft managed to convince Sherlock to quit drugs and stick to cigarettes.

Not a healthier option but cigarettes were more manageable. Since the incident with… Sherlock shook his head and abandoned those painful memories of his past. Sherlock returned to enjoying his cigarette and after taking a few drags, the Alpha sneered in disgust and hid his fangs from the public with his hand.

Somehow, he didn’t know how, Mycroft always snuck cigarettes made of low tar into Sherlock’s atmosphere.

Sherlock breathed out a cloud of smoke with such disappointment and cursed underneath his breath, _dammit Mycroft_ , _fuck you and your low tar cigarettes_. Sherlock held the cigarette in between his fingers and walked to the next pillar, leaning against it and displaying himself to everyone. John was walking down the platform when a tall and handsome pale man dressed in black was taking a drag and looking extremely bored.

Sherlock lazily drifted his gaze to the sea of people entering the tube station when he came across cobalt blue eyes and sandy blond har, wait. Sherlock reverted his vision back to the familiar set of eyes and… _how is this possible?_ Sherlock remained frozen at the sight before him, everything in that lovely brain of his stopped working.

Gears were screeching to a halt, data running through his brain made no sense, the very basis of breathing was incomprehensible, and the unawakened feelings from the past were drowning Sherlock. Darkness was absorbing his body, walls were closing in around him, his throat was thickening and the painful cutting edge of guilt was eating him alive. Sherlock’s past had finally caught up to him.

_How on earth was this possible?!_

The images of blood spilling across the floor revived his memories; the bite belonging to a predator who feasted on his prey could actually be tasted in his mouth again, the excruciating death that came afterward, and his beloved Omega choking on his own blood reopened a gateway that Sherlock hadn’t visited in centuries. The unmistakable proof that his mate died was… a lie.

It was him. It was John. _His_ John. He was actually here in the flesh and bone. Sherlock felt his knees becoming weak. How was the vampire capable of abandoning his dying mate all those centuries ago? How the fuck did he have the courage to leave John when he wasn’t dead? Nothing made sense. But nevertheless, Sherlock knew one thing and that was how his happiness had finally been restored.

All those centuries without John had been a living hell but now the restoration of their love can commence a second time.

John felt an unbreakable bond between —with one sniff— towards the Alpha before him, the Omega could have sworn that he knew this man from somewhere but his memory could not place the name to the face. It was almost as if this man was part of his prior life when… hell no. John wasn’t here looking for a one night stand, he needed to finish a job and no Alpha with sharp cheekbones and Cupid bow lips could make him drop everything to go in a dark corner and let this man fuck him.

Besides, the unnerving feeling of knowing but not knowing who this man is, was throwing John off a bit. John broke away from the Alpha’s scrutinizing gaze and turned to see the train coming from the tunnel. John needed to get on this train to lead the targets towards a part of London where he would torture and kill them without any inconveniences.

But curiosity got the best of John and with a final glance at the mysterious Alpha, he gave a small smile before walking down the platform and waiting for the train to stop. Sherlock felt his entire body breaking into tiny shards of glass. John doesn’t remember him; the Omega doesn’t fucking remember him.

_How the fuck is this possible?!_

It was clear that John was sexually attracted to Sherlock but besides that, the Omega didn’t react to his presence. Sherlock felt his world spinning and a heavy lump was growing in his chest, making it difficult to breathe.

Long time ago, near a fire, surrounded by dark skies with twinkling stars, John whispered against Sherlock’s curls, “ _I love you so much, Sherlock. No matter what happens, I’ll never forget about you._ ”

Sherlock felt the shivering goosebumps running down his body at almost feeling the warm breath against his ear. Sherlock was this close to running after the Omega and claiming John as his mate again, when the werewolves entered the tube station. Sherlock growled in annoyance and hid himself behind the pillar.

The male werewolf accompanied by the female werewolf were quickly walking down the stairs and keeping a sharp eye on John Watson. Unknown to their blind spots, Sherlock immediately deduced that these werewolves were after John. One of the werewolves that Sherlock recognized immediately was Mary Morstan —an Alpha— surpassed her companion and reached behind her back to grab her gun.

Sherlock vehemently spat the cigarette in his mouth to the floor and growled predatorily. The vampire felt his rage boiling as he watched the filthy werewolf advancing herself towards his Omega. Sherlock reached for his gun and moved towards the target; losing John the first time nearly killed him, he sure as hell wasn’t going to lose him again.

Sherlock cocked the gun when James appeared before him, shoving Sherlock’s gun into his coat and growling at the vampire to stay put. Sherlock wanted to tear James’ throat apart but James left before Sherlock could do so. The Alpha knew that he was here for a mission and for now, he wouldn’t fuck it up. But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t keep a watchful eye on his mate, John Watson.

*-*

Mary Morstan: trained assassin, few in the population to be a woman and a werewolf, an Alpha, and above all, a liar. To those who couldn’t read between the lines, Mary seemed harmless but her looks were deceiving. Mary was part of Moriarty’s lineage and she was nothing more than a loyal follower who despised vampires.

Mary was two feet away from grabbing John when she abruptly stopped in her tracks, flaring her nostrils to breathe in the faint yet familiarly disgusting scent that was rushing through her nose.

Mary turned around, eyeing everyone in the station when she spotted James Sholto. “Vampires!”

James and Sherlock prepared for the shootout against the werewolves. Mary retrieved another gun and cocked both weapons, firing at James and Sherlock. Sherlock felt powerless knowing that he couldn’t protect John but he’d do everything in his power to keep the werewolves and bullets away from him. Sherlock reached for the second gun tucked behind his lower back when a distinct smell caused him to look left. 

The second werewolf, Stephen Bainbridge sneaked behind Sherlock and began to fire at him.

Sherlock took cover behind the pillar, coming face to face with James when Mary shot two bullets into James. Sherlock watched as the bullets pierced through James’ body, burning the vampire’s insides and melting the skin on the outside into gooey piles of flesh. Now it was only Sherlock. Two against one, not fair but exhilarating.

Sherlock snarled in frustration and emerged from the pillar, both guns in hand and shooting at Bainbridge. Sherlock kept pulling the trigger, trying to penetrate the silver bullets into the werewolf’s body but Bainbridge hid himself behind another pillar. The lights in the station were exploding in sparks of electricity while bullets were being fired everywhere.

Mary came to Bainbridge’s rescue after loading her gun and shooting at Sherlock. Sherlock smelt the bullets aiming towards him and instantly sought the protection of the pillar again while Mary followed his every step, going as far as to shoot through the pillar. Sherlock snorted, as if bullets could ever go through concrete barriers, this werewolf was painfully idiotic.

Bainbridge was reloading his gun in a hurry, trying not to get killed. During the shootout, John managed to use the protection of the train to stay hidden. John reached for his gun and waited for the perfect moment to abduct at least one of the werewolves. Fucking hell. John looked at the pillar where the apparent vampire was hiding behind and snarled, no wonder the pale Alpha seemed so off because like him, the Alpha was an agent.

John waited two more minutes before settling on kidnapping the stupid werewolf that was reloading his gun and had his back towards John. Well shit. John expected a full fist fight but apparently, shit was going to be easy as fuck. John smiled widely, taking advantage that the female werewolf wasn’t paying attention to her partner and sneaked behind the crouching werewolf.

John appeared behind Bainbridge, delivering a harsh blow to the back of the werewolf’s head and making the target stumble forward before falling unconscious. John quickly held onto Bainbridge, making sure that Mary didn’t hear her partner falling to the ground while hoisting Bainbridge over John’s shoulder.

On the other side of the shootout; Sherlock managed to reload his guns, with the display of his fangs, he seethed in anger at wanting to kill Mary Morstan. If Mary so much as touched a single strand of golden hair on John’s head, he would personally sink his fangs into her jugular and drain the blood from her body with a touch of poison that vampires produced that felt like needles being pushed through every part of the body.

A slow and painful death yet wonderful when used on the enemy. Before Sherlock emerged from behind the pillar; the Alpha sniffed the air and flared his nostrils, he recognized the scent of another vampire nearby. With another sniff, Sherlock rolled his eyes and faced the entrance to the train station and saw Sally Donovan reaching for her gun.

Sally quickly made her way to Sherlock and hid behind the pillar with him.

“About bloody time. Was Anderson keeping you busy again?” Sherlock sneered.

Sally bared her fangs, “Fuck you, freak.”

“You know, after working together for about three centuries, you still can’t come up with a better insult than freak?”

Sally hissed and cocked her gun. “Old habits die hard.”

Sherlock snorted and rolled his eyes, “Take out the female werewolf, I’ll take care of the other one. Ready, cover for me.”

With an affirmative nod; Sally held onto her gun and came out from behind the pillar, shooting at Mary and forcing the werewolf to seek cover inside the train. Mary lowered herself on the floor, growling in annoyance because she ran out of ammo. She laid on her back and loaded her guns with ammo, hissing at the fellow passengers on the train to _shut it_ before she killed everyone due to their irritating screams for help.

Sally looked back at Sherlock and with a nod, Sherlock cocked both guns and faced Bainbridge. In a spilt second, Sherlock snarled in rage as a warped misinterpretation clouded his judgement. From Sherlock’s point of view, he saw Bainbridge attacking John. From John’s point of view, Bainbridge was still unconscious and John had finally managed to keep the werewolf upright so he could swoop down and lift the werewolf onto his shoulder.

Killing the werewolf targets be damned; Sherlock was not going to let any harm fall upon John and because of that, the vampire lifted his gun and aimed at the back of Bainbridge’s head. Without even remotely thinking of the consequences, Sherlock pulled back the trigger and took the shot. Exactly when John was about to reach down for Bainbridge’s legs, the Omega noticed the mysterious Alpha pulling the trigger and a bullet was flying towards the back of Bainbridge’s head.

Shit.

John has worked on this case for seven months and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let some posh dark-haired Alpha take away his only chance at finding out why the werewolves wanted him so badly. Once Sherlock shot the first bullet, John uncaringly tossed Bainbridge onto the floor and pulled back the trigger to his own gun.

If John lingered another five seconds, Sherlock’s bullet would have gone through John’s skull.

But it didn’t.

The speed of both bullets was hindered abruptly for Sherlock and John’s bullets met halfway and collided against each other. The impactful clashing of both bullets resulted in their ammo —which was made from different substances— to morph into broken ammunition that fell limply on the floor between Sherlock and John.

Sherlock was stunned, no death dealer that belonged to the clan of vampires has ever experienced the improbability of a werewolf, much less a human, challenge the speed of their bullets. This unrealistic and unheard-of event had the same effect on John but there was a still a job to be done. John shook off the initial shock and growled, taking advantage that the vampire was distracted and with one bullet, he could kill the Alpha.

John didn’t hesitate when he walked forward and pulled the trigger, one bullet after another. Sherlock was still a bit dazed but immediately recovered when the sound of bullets were whooshing through the air and aiming towards his chest. Sherlock lifted his gun and blocked the bullets that were coming from John, one after another, bullets were limply crashing against one another and uselessly falling onto the ground.

John became infuriated at the notion of using his gun against the Alpha, was pointless. John came to stand ten feet away from the Alpha when the Omega snarled in aggravation and chucked his gun to the side. If he couldn’t kill the vampire with his gun, then he’ll have to improvise with his hands. Sherlock didn’t run out of ammo but when John flung his weapon to the side; the Alpha was certain that John remembered who he was and based on his calculations, they’ll kiss and makeup in a train station (of all places).

Sherlock made the naïve mistake of throwing his gun to the side and holding out his arms to embrace John, he was ready to feel the Omega once more against his cold dead skin. Naturally, John took Sherlock’s mistake as an opportunity. In an instant, John stepped onto Sherlock’s thigh while he used the momentum to step onto Sherlock’s bicep, using the boost to settle himself onto the Alpha’s shoulders.

John snuggly wrapped his legs around Sherlock’s neck, purposely tightening the hold of his thighs against the vampire’s face and with a flirtatious shove, the Omega forced his cock into the Alpha’s face. Sherlock made an _oof_ sound at having John’s cock smooshed against his face. John allowed himself to fall and made a 360 spin on Sherlock’s neck, making the Alpha dizzy and forcing him onto the floor.

When John returned to his prior spot —his cock against Sherlock’s face— the Omega was already seated on top of the Alpha. Sherlock fell down against the ground with a painful shove, he was being crushed. John was seated on top of him, his thighs were still caging around Sherlock’s head when the Omega delivered a bitter punch across the vampire’s face.

Sherlock groaned at the scratch across his cheekbone when John reached for the gun strapped to his ankle.

John cocked the gun and pointed it against Sherlock’s forehead. “So long, handsome.”

“John, stop!”

Before John could stop himself, he pulled back the trigger but Sherlock managed to throw off the Omega’s aim and instead, the bullet carved its way through the platform.

John remained frozen as he intently gazed into Sherlock’s eyes. “How do you know my name?”

Sherlock used the fleeting second of confusion —on John’s part— and pushed the Omega off him. Sherlock knocked the gun from John’s hand and flipped their position around, now the vampire was on top of the Omega, straddling his hips. Sherlock bent down towards John, his pale and cold hand caressing the Omega’s cheek.

The touch was so _so_ soft, benign, vulnerable, innocent but most of all, in every hateful way that John could imagine, the touch was familiar.

Sherlock came closer to John’s face, his cold breath splashing over the Omega’s skin. “Don’t you remember me?”

In a flicker of emergence, new and unborn energy crackled through their bodies. The words almost felt like a kiss against John’s lips and to his horror, a switch had been turned on and images began to rush through his head.

Blood. _Soft kisses_. Fangs. _Smiles_. Pain. _Darks curls_. A monster. _A consulting detective._ A relationship… turned into a massacre.

Then to John’s confusion, the chaotic surge of memories came in broken phrases: _Afghanistan or Iraq? I’d be lost without my blogger. Don’t make people into heroes, John. Happy New Years, John. I don’t have friends; I’ve just got one. Keep your eyes fixed on me. I prefer my doctors clean-shaven. Anytime. John, there’s something I should say, I’ve meant to say always and I have never have._

_I love you._

In a heartbeat, John could have sworn that he remembered his past life until the fire that ignited between them was blown out and the chance of remembering who he was, was gone… for now.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a friendly reminder, this is my fic and if you do not like the way I portray the characters, then please don’t waste your time reading and then leaving a mean comment. If what I write is not your liking, please find another author that will satisfy your cravings. Toodles :)


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